


Test Drive

by dracoqueen22



Series: Taste Test [3]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, PWP, Tactile, Tentacles, energy manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:50:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave's being stalked; Knock Out doesn't know how to be subtle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Drive

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing tentacle pronz. It's way more fun than is legal, I think.
> 
> Takes place during season two, sometime after the Orion Pax episodes.

Soundwave's being watched.  
  
It is less a matter of noticing that some mech has been staring at him, as he can sense the optics on his frame. Like lasers focused on his backstrut, an eerie sensation creeping across his circuits.  
  
A good spy would never allow his target to realize he is being observed. Therefore, Soundwave can only assume that his stalker is not the definition of a good spy. He is, however, a tenacious mech because the staring has been quite steady for the past week.  
  
It's not threatening, merely a small annoyance, and Soundwave files away his own observation as a minor note to be explored later. Clearly the mech doesn't intend him harm, but perhaps something else. Curiosity? The Vehicons have been known to stare on several occasions.  
  
Either way, it's not important. Irrelevant. There are a thousand and one other tasks that Soundwave must complete. Lord Megatron relies upon him for many things and he hasn't the wherewithal to bother wasting time investigating the identity of a curious mech.  
  
Luckily, the very nature of a bad spy indicates that sooner or later, he will reveal himself without any investigation on Soundwave's part.  
  
For instance, there is no logical reason why Knock Out should be standing in the doorway of this room. It is and has always been Soundwave's personal domain (not including the week or so in which Orion Pax was on ship). Knock Out would have no purpose in visiting especially since the red mech seems to disdain anything resembling paperwork if Breakdown's mutters whilst in the washracks are any indication.  
  
“Soundwave,” Knock Out says, an audible purr in his vocalizer that seems always present when the mech is speaking. He wants something, obviously.  
  
Soundwave doesn't cease his data uploading, only shifting his weight to indicate that he has registered Knock Out's presence.  
  
“You missed your check up,” Knock Out says, lounging in the door frame as though he belongs there. He idly examines the digits of one hand, frowning at an odd spatter of energon.  
  
Check up? Behind his faceplate, Soundwave rolls his optics.  
  
Autobot Ratchet is a medic. Knock Out is most assuredly not. Only in the most distant interpretation of the title. Oh, yes, he can fix a mech when put under pressure. But Soundwave knows that Knock Out's preferences lie in dismantling.  
  
“Then again, I'm sure you keep yourself in excellent condition.” Knock Out leers. “At least, from what I can see from here.”  
  
A burr of irritation takes up residence on Soundwave's shoulders. Unfortunately, Knock Out needs no encouragement to keep mindlessly chatting.  
  
“Do you know what today is? On Cybertron, of course.”  
  
The date?  
  
Soundwave pauses in his information perusal, consulting his databanks. With some manipulating and conversions, the Cybetronian data becomes clear. Ah, no wonder Knock Out has approached him.  
  
 _Upload complete. Begin processing data?_  
  
Responding to the Nemesis' AI's query with a negative, Soundwave instructs the computer to save his work before he turns to face the medic. He pulls up several image files of Orn of the All Spark, a planet-wide celebration that over the vorns has boiled down to an excuse for exchanging liberal amounts of high grade and interfacing. He sends them to his faceplate display and turns toward Knock Out, proving that he is aware of the date.  
  
Knock Out's optics shift into a smoldering scarlet. “Mmm. I knew you would,” he says, and sidles further into the room, finally allowing the door to close behind him. “It would be a shame if we abandoned those traditions, wouldn't it?”  
  
Less than impressed, Soundwave calls up another piece of video footage, this time of Knock Out himself, and Breakdown. Fragging in the cargo bay isn't exactly private so he can't get his plating in a twist over Soundwave having a copy of this piece of evidence.  
  
He has other videos, too, if Knock Out is curious. Ones of the medic and Starscream, before their former lieutenant's disappearance. And, even curiouser, one of Starscream and Breakdown, though that particular piece of surveillance only registers Breakdown entering Starscream's quarters and emerging several long, scuffed hours later.  
  
“Him?” Knock Out flicks his talons dismissively, lowering his hand to rest on his hips in a lazy display of sensuality. “I'm hardly a one-mech Con, Soundwave. I like to experience new things.” He shifts his attention to Soundwave appreciatively. “And you would be a brand new treat.”  
  
Should he be offended or flattered? Either way, Knock Out's made his intentions crystal-clear. The only question remains whether Soundwave should dismiss the narcissistic mech or take advantage of the offer.  
  
Interfacing has always scored low on Soundwave's priority list. There has been too much else to consider lately. Lord Megatron's return, his defeat, his revival, Starscream's absence, Airachnid's attempted coup, Orion Pax's temporary presence... As Lord Megatron's most trusted subordinate, Soundwave has tasked himself with making certain he knows everything that happens on the Nemesis. This doesn't leave time for much else.  
  
In retrospect, such a single-processor dedication to the task is probably what explains the twitchy charge in his circuits as of late. He has been abnormally restless, cutting his recharge short as he roams the halls of the Nemesis. His face visor has been glitchy, displaying unusual streaks of static, and his energon consumption has decreased. Clear signs of a mech in desperate need of a circuit-clearing overload or three.  
  
Hmm. Soundwave disdains Knock Out identifying himself as a medic, but he does have the necessary equipment. No doubt his scans have picked up on Soundwave's overcharge and decided to make himself readily available to take advantage of it. Opportunistic narcissist that he is. He resembles Starscream in that aspect though Soundwave will never display that particular comparison.  
  
He strongly suspects the human's idea of a “cat fight” would then ensue.  
  
But he's getting off task. A decision must be made.  
  
Soundwave glances at Knock Out again, the self-proclaimed medic displaying an unusual example of patience.  
  
Knock Out is not unattractive. He's no Lord Megatron. He doesn't have that charisma, that ability to claim attention, but he has an appeal of his own. He has obviously polished and waxed his plating recently and Soundwave's own surveillance indicates that Knock Out is not unskilled in the berth. The only downside, of course, would be the mech's personality. But Soundwave doesn't have to like Knock Out to interface with him.  
  
In fact, it may be interesting to watch the sly medic realize he's entered himself into a race he can't win. Little does Knock Out know, but Soundwave is not the type to lay back and let his partner dictate. He is not Lord Megatron's berthwarmer as current rumor may suggest. They are both Alpha; it would never work.  
  
Knock Out might pretend to be Alpha, but he's Delta at best. Built to please and seek pleasure and beg for it when the time comes.  
  
Blue bolts of static crawl across Soundwave's chestplate, giving proof to his overcharge. Knock Out smirks; Soundwave decides.  
  
He sends a command to the door for it to lock with only Lord Megatron capable of overriding it. The click of the lock engaging is loud in the contemplative quiet.  
  
Knock Out's smirk widens. “You see,” he says, strolling further into the room until he's in Soundwave's personal space, energy field open and engaging, heated with desire. “That's what I like about you, Soundwave. You're decisive.” One hand lands on Soundwave's chestplate, where Laserbeak would be if he wasn't out on reconnaissance.  
  
The touch is welcome, but to invite more would be to let Knock Out believe he's the one in charge of this encounter.  
  
Soundwave shifts back half a pace, the panels on his chestplate shifting aside to release his sensory cables. The sight of them makes Knock Out's optics widen, and expecting some sort of smart-afted comment, Soundwave quickly makes his move.  
  
The cables coil around Knock Out's wrists, pulling his arms up over his helm. A single command sends Knock Out sprawling against the console, an altogether appealing presentation. Soundwave retracts his cables, and when Knock Out twitches as though intending to get up, he waves one cable in front of the mech's face.  
  
“Don't move?” Knock Out chuckles, optics darkening as arousal pulses outward from his energy field. “Suit yourself.”  
  
Soundwave steps forward, pinning Knock Out between himself and the console, one armored knee notched between Knock Out's legs. “Don't move,” his visor repeats, tossing Knock Out's own words back at him, albeit without the curious inflection.  
  
Knock Out smirks, tilting his helm as he holds his arms to either side, digits gripping at the console. “Decisive and commanding. No wonder Lord Megatron likes you so much,” he purrs.  
  
He contemplates remotely cutting off Knock Out's vocalizer, but the harmonics of the mech's vocals are enticing. He'll simply have to ignore the actual words.  
  
Soundwave's sensory cables snake out, winding around Knock Out's red frame. The valves at the end spiral open.  
  
Knock Out hadn't protested at the first emergence of his cables, so Soundwave takes that as tacit permission to employ them. Indeed, the medic seems to sprawl himself more firmly across the console, armor plates lifting and shifting aside, giving Soundwave straight paths to sensitive hydraulic lines and motility cables.  
  
Soundwave winds his cables around Knock Out's arms, leaving enough slack that he can deploy the fine manipulators directly under Knock Out's plating. Knock Out moans, his frame performing a slow, sensual undulation.  
  
“Oh frag,” he murmurs, optics zeroing in on Soundwave's faceplate. “I might have made a small miscalculation.”  
  
A laugh bubbles up in Soundwave's vocalizer but he easily locks it back, hiding his amusement behind his faceplate. Knock Out seems to have a knack for miscalculations.  
  
Soundwave extends his manipulators further, letting them entwine with Knock Out's circuits. He can affect Knock Out without interference this way, without thick armor to dull the sensations.  
  
The tiny filaments stroke Knock Out's delicate lines and cables, feeling the medic twitch beneath his touch.  
  
“Ohhh _frag_ ,” Knock Out moans again, tilting his helm back, his optics flickering.  
  
Soundwave watches, indulging in the erotic view. He casually hacks into Knock Out's sensornet using the filaments, inducing them to send pleasureable pulses across Knock Out's systems.  
  
Knock Out writhes shamelessly, static crawling across his plating like blue lightning. His energy field is a whirring plea for more and more. Soundwave can feel the charge in Knock Out's systems ratcheting higher and higher.  
  
He stops. The fine manipulators in his cable terminus stop pushing light pulses against Knock Out's sensornet. He goes utterly and completely still, leaving the medic to thrash without any stimulation whatsoever. And Soundwave waits.  
  
He doesn't have to wait for long. Knock Out is as impatient as he is demanding.  
  
His optics cut back on with a surge of bright scarlet. “What the frag?” Knock Out snarls, bucking his hips, his inner thighs skimming along Soundwave's right knee.  
  
Soundwave, as usual, says nothing. He doesn't even pull up a vid or audio clip from his massive archive. Let the vain medic figure it out.  
  
Knock Out twitches again, pelvic array arching upward, arms lifting but not getting very far as Soundwave's cables are quite thoroughly entwined with them.  
  
“You slagger!” Knock Out howls with dawning realization, his energy field a blast of unresolved heat. “Don't stop!”  
  
Soundwave watches Knock Out from behind his visor, recording this as he does everything else, saving the image for later.  
  
Knock Out struggles, his vocals a low rumble of irritation. “I'm not going to beg for it,” he grits out through bared dentals.  
  
Ah, but that's exactly what Soundwave wants. He tilts his helm and starts to unwind the fine manipulators of one cable from Knock Out's internals, making a show of withdrawing himself.  
  
Knock Out's optics widen. “No!” He thrashes, a low moan echoing in the tiny monitor room. “No, don't stop! _Please_.”  
  
Soundwave halts his withdrawal, letting his manipulators wind through Knock Out's sensory net again, giving a light pulse of charge that makes the medic moan shamelessly. He lifts a hand, aiming long fingers toward expertly polished plating, pleased when Knock Out strains toward him.  
  
“Yes,” Knock Out moans. “Touch me. Please.”  
  
So much for not begging. How quickly he tosses his pride aside when an overload is on the line. Soundwave would be amused, if he didn't find the sight so very arousing. His own frame is extruding heat like a furnace, charge licking his circuits.  
  
Soundwave drags own finger down Knock Out's chestplate, tracing the neatly concealed seam that protects his spark. He flexes his manipulators, stroking them over the inner layer of Knock Out's armor.  
  
The medic squirms, an aroused whine echoing in his chassis. “Yes, more, more, please.”  
  
Reduced to nearly incoherent babbling? How very Delta of him.  
  
Soundwave pulses the first surge of electricity through his cable and directly over Knock Out's sensornet.  
  
Knock Out shouts, a wordless noise of pleasure, bucking upward in a desperate bid for more.  
  
Soundwave's cooling fans kick on with a quiet whirr, his own arousal building at the sight. Knock Out, for all his narcissistic manners, is an attractive mech. Not quite like Lord Megatron, but appealing enough.  
  
However, like this, with his blather replaced by cries for more, Knock Out is the epitome of erotic. Soundwave imagines other things he could do to a mech as responsive as this. Knock Out's sadism is well-documented, but there's hints of something else as well. A touch of masochism, perhaps a careful application of the energon prod he tends to favor?  
  
Experimentally, Soundwave sends another surge of charge directly against Knock Out's protoform, the sensation sharper, edged more toward pain than the lighter burst he'd used earlier.  
  
Knock Out hisses, but his energy field doesn't radiate pain. Instead, the red mech twists and turns in his bonds, a high keen of pleasure echoing in the room.  
  
Ah, so much potential.  
  
Not now, because Soundwave's overcharge is making him impatient, but a later time perhaps. He doubts it will be difficult to coax Knock Out into another interface. Especially not after this.  
  
He pulls up schematics of the standard frame type vehicle modes utilize, though he's sure Knock Out has made his own modifications over time. Still, there should be enough similarities that Soundwave can use the design to his benefit. His fingers twitched in anticipation, seeking out the most sensitive nodes in Knock Out's frame.  
  
He traces a transformation seam and sends another electrical surge.  
  
“Frag.” Knock Out whines and thrashes against the bonds of Soundwave's cables. “More! So c-close!”  
  
Demanding creature, isn't he? Yet, so much more appealing when he's reduced to this writhing, wanton mech.  
  
Soundwave shifts, reaching forward and burying both hands in Knock Out's frame, nimble fingers easily sliding into gaps in the medic's armor. Electric surges leap from Knock Out's armor onto Soundwave's own, enticing his sensors with exquisite bliss.  
  
Knock Out moans and his energy field flexes outward sharply, radiating pure pleasure. His optics shutter to half-mast, his frame shuddering on the console. The smell of ozone is heavy in the air, and Soundwave doesn't have to hear Knock Out's meaningless murmurs to know that the medic is hovering on the edge.  
  
Soundwave's fingers nimbly slip into Knock Out's chassis, the distant tips brushing across the humming metal of Knock Out's spark chamber. He pushes a short burst, then a long burr of low-grade electricity directly into Knock Out's systems.  
  
Knock Out arches, a deep vocal keen escaping him as he is struck by his overload, bucking and surging against the console. Static dances over his plating like St. Elmo's fire and his optics flicker before suddenly darkening.  
  
Soundwave's faceplate is overcome with static as all of the charge from Knock Out's overload surges into his sensory cables. The feedback pours over Soundwave's body in an unrelenting wave. His fingers twitch as he is swept away by the overload, heat spilling into the air and fans whirring noisily.  
  
Great will is what keeps Soundwave clinging to consciousness. Knock Out, however, is not quite so lucky. He sprawls limply against the console, cooling fans whirring to calm his frame and engine quietly purring. However, he is quite offline.  
  
Definitely Delta.  
  
Amused, Soundwave carefully uncoils his manipulators and winds them back into his cables. These he also retracts, stowing them safely within his chassis. He steps back from Knock Out and examines his armor for paint transfers, wondering how much longer it would take for the medic to reboot. He has work that still needs completing.  
  
He shifts to the right side of the console, lifting Knock Out's arm and moving it out of his way. An interface cable slithers from Soundwave's lateral armor, plugging into the Nemesis' console. The data he had uploaded earlier is still waiting for him to access and process it. Now is as good a time as any.  
  
Soundwave gets back to work, the steady processing giving his frame plenty of time to cool down and get back to a normal state.  
  
He's ten percent done with the new data by the time Knock Out finally stirs, optics onlining and systems a loud hum that is immediately distracting. Soundwave pauses in the midst of assimilating the code, shifting half of his attention to the waking medic.  
  
“Holy slag,” Knock Out groans and levers himself up from the console, one hand lifting to his faceplate. “Think I'm gonna feel that one for weeks.”  
  
Soundwave looks at the mech, searching his database of audial clips for something appropriate. “ _There is work to be done_ ,” he replays. “ _Depart immediately_.”  
  
“What? I don't get any cuddling time?” Knock Out tries for nonchalant, but it fails when he staggers to his feet, radiating fatigue.  
  
Soundwave ignores Knock Out, diverting seventy-five percent of his attention back to his work.  
  
“Hmph. See if I grace you with my company again.” Knock Out straightens his shoulders, trying to swagger from the room with dignity intact.  
  
“ _Suit yourself_ ,” Soundwave quotes Knock Out's own words back at him. He is, however, certain Knock Out will be back, slyly hinting for more. Deltas are like that, can't help themselves.  
  
Knock Out grinds a few gears together, a noise of skeptical derision, before the door slides shut and Soundwave is alone.  
  
Just the way he likes it.  
  
* * *


End file.
